


Duties

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 20:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20954108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Spock delivers a report.





	Duties

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Spock has been in his captain’s ready room approximately one hundred and seventy-three times, so there’s no need to survey his surroundings when he enters them. He has the entire space mapped out in his mind, from the ever-on computer screen to the old fashioned books piled up beside it. This time, Spock makes it halfway across the room before his mind accepts that there’s something different.

He pauses mid-step, glancing at the large bundle of fabric spread out in the corner. Their ship’s navigator is curled up inside them, fretfully asleep. His honey-coloured hair is slicked across his forehead with sweat, his body naked and shimmering—a singly red sheet drapes across his midsection and offers some semblance of privacy. The rest is all exposed. The makeshift bed he lies in is composed of thick blankets, a large Federation flag, and a single gold tunic that bears the captain’s rank. Conversely, Jim is wearing his green wrap-around shirt.

Jim’s seated at his desk, poring over reports as though nothing’s amiss. He looks up at Spock’s entrance, and Spock stoically continues forward. 

He does his best not to look at Chekov, but Jim must have already seen his hesitation. Jim casually explains, “He’s in heat; don’t mind him.”

Spock’s mouth creases with his frown. He’s heard before of the bizarreness that is the human mating cycle, but this is the first time he’s encountered it in his professional career. It seems incredibly inefficient to undergo such depravity for an entire week every year rather than a day or two every seven. Humans are generally less proper than Vulcans, but at least they still tend to keep those too-frequent and unseemly acts to themselves. The last thing Spock expected was to find his captain, a man whom he considers thoroughly worthy of the title, so blatantly indulging in what should be a behind-closed-doors affair. 

Spock’s instinct is to simply look the other way; it would be easier to ignore such vivid indiscretions. But ensuring that the Enterprise runs smoothly is part of his job as first officer, so Spock inquires, “Why is he not in his quarters?”

“He needs alpha supervision,” Jim explains, as though that’s obvious. He might be under the mistaken impression that Spock’s human half has led him to explore the more obscene human rituals, which it has not. He has remained intentionally distant from human mating designations. Jim must see this, because he continues, “A pre-chosen partner would be ideal, but barring that, these are the sort of responsibilities that fall on the captain’s shoulders.”

Spock can’t help noting, “A highly unprofessional arrangement.” He imagines this is one of those things that Starfleet only notifies a person of once they’ve already been appointed to office, because surely it would be a major deterrent to any sane person. Jim doesn’t look bothered, but then, Spock knows Jim to be incredibly resilient. 

Jim shrugs. “Hey, he needs an alpha, doctor’s orders.” Then he glances aside, eyes sweeping the sleeping ensign with the same human fondness he often displays for his crew in their greatest moments. He quietly adds, “Besides, he’s kind of cute.” Spock lifts a brow. Jim turns back to Spock and chuckles, “Well, when he’s not whining about how much he’d prefer a ‘big, strong Russian man,’ that is.”

Spock doesn’t understand. But he doesn’t have to. He decides to end the inappropriate conversation by delivering his report. He holds it over the desk, and Jim collects it from his hands with a curt, “Thank you.”

Chekov makes a groaning noise, his bare arms stretching out in Spock’s peripherals. He moans, “_Keptain_...”

Jim gives Spock a parting smile and rises from his desk. Spock hurriedly leaves before he can be any further scarred.


End file.
